


Lathbora Viran

by Wertlos



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Dalish, Dragon Age - Freeform, F/F, Kirkwall, Starkhaven, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 18:10:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11995203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wertlos/pseuds/Wertlos
Summary: On the verge of starvation, three mercenaries take a job doing less than moral deeds for aristocratic nobles. When a line is crossed, the youngest member decides to split from the group with the latest target.





	Lathbora Viran

Sun doesn't trickle down, it was something Idi realized while collecting herbs with the keeper. The forest was home and it was certainly a beautiful home but it was not without it's villains. The sun was grand fire that demanded the harsh roots to gnarl and dissuade the shemlen from walking into it's domain.

Would've been nice if they had done a little more to protect their residents though.

"Take a sip Dran."

A shemlen: late twenties, long dark red hair, and leather armor, offered a small, broken in flask to another human walking to parallel to him.

"No." The man known as Dran's facial hair seemed to had taken the place of his mouth. Completely obscuring his mouth, the beard was moderately well kept; enough to the point where people wouldn't suspect that a bird's nest had simply attached itself to his face.

"Suit yourself." The orange shem dramatically swung the flask back and emptied nearly the entire container into his mouth that seemed to be evicting teeth from their residence monthly. "What about you kid?"

The last member of the group was wildly different form the other two; scrawny, a completely shaved head, and no weapons present on his person besides a small dagger and a slingshot. Upon his companion holding out the flask, he recoiled, suprised at being yanked out of his own head space by his boisterous ally. He gently pushed the flask back, bruised, cut hands moving over the worn leather.

The shemlen with orange hair sighed heavily, he looked incredulously at the two of them.

"We got the fucking catch of the century and no one wants to share a drink with me," he shook his head in disapproval,"fuckin' shame is what that is."

Idi began to think of all the ways she could have killed them or been saved, assuming the savior did the murdering; or let her murder them, either one worked really.

The woods had never been a place to fear, she, her clan, and the other dalish were the rightful inhabitants. Thousands of years of history and miraculous magic undone by the shemlen, they were the last living link to those beings of wonder. It had never meant much to her, it inspired the same awe that the rest of her clan mates felt, but she knew her connection to her heritage was much weaker. Upon becoming the first she confessed these feelings to the keeper, who, suprisingly, told her she shared many of the same feelings and fears when she was Idi's age. The keeper, usually cold and distant, had laid her hand on Idi's shoulder and told her much of the connection she felt she was missing would be found in the relationships she formed within her clan.

"Nothing made me more envious, but also proud of my ancestors then when my beloved died. He and I will meet again after this life, but to live forever, together like our ancestors."

It was the only time Idi had felt the connection she so dearly lacked.

Of course though, the following day consisted of nothing but harsh magical exercises and grueling lectures on the duty of being a keeper of a clan.

A tiny part of her she oh so desperately wanted to squash had been relived at first when the orange hair human had knocked her out with what she had presumed to be a spell, but had simply turned out to be a common poison that could apparently 'be found in any good neighborhood black market'. Said feeling was swallowed up back in some corner of her mind when she learned why they had kidnapped her though.

The loud, obnoxious voice that had plagued their trip into what she learned was the city of Starkhaven began again with renewed vigor, "Say Gar, I know what will cheer you right up." Large, gloved hands grabbed Idi by the waist and tossed her to the feet of the smaller of the three, "How about before we hand her off to some noble twat, you have a go at her?"

The boy seemed to be around the same age as Idi as far as she could tell. Gar stared down at the girl and in return she stared right back into him, though she was surprised to see pain rather than the glee in the other shem's eyes.

"So what do you say Gar? Want to loosen up the gal for some aristocrats?"

The eldest one chose this moment to intervene, "Knock it off Lyle."

Lyle seemed to be taken aghast at the comment, "I was only looking out for the customer's boss; after all, who wants to go at it with some young little knife ear that hasn't even popped her cherry yet?"

A knife was whizzed by the shemlen, who simply bounced on his feet with that same idiotic grin slathered onto his face.

"This is a job Lyle, nothing more, nothing less. I apologize that it isn't quite up to the standards of whatever nightly depravities you get up to in whatever brothel will still accept your coin. Right now though, I need you to shut up so we can get this over with and get paid."

Lyle slid to Dran on his knees, hanging his head and holding his wrists out to the elder mercenary, "Oh Dran! I beg you, forgive me! Teach me your ways of morality. I now know that one when thou pocket feels lighter than average and you can't afford the same shitty soup you've been sustaining yourself off of for the past decade; you immediately turn to kidnapping young women to give to demented sexual deviants in their ivory towers where there are no laws!" He stood up and slapped his forehead, "How could I have been so blind, the compass was right here in front of me this whole time! Tell me Dran, next time shall we dice her up? Maybe rough her up a bit before we hand her over to the little gods in robes before they do so much worse to her?"

Idi felt something close to happiness when the older shem's fist connected into the other one's.

She was then reminded why this one was the leader.

Dran grabbed the rope and began to drag Idi through the forest.

"I'll see boys back at the tavern for drinks, after the money we make off her death we'll be able to buy swill almost good enough to forget about it!" The last Idi saw of the grotesque shemlen was his head laying back into an unwelcoming puddle of mud.

For the most part the rest of the journey was silent, the only sound beings the crunching of leaves and twigs as well as Idi's sobbing.


End file.
